Mama eyed the dagger Hisvin had given me with a potent Hog scowl.
“I ain’t never seen the likes of that, boy.”
“Me neither,” added Gertriss. “It…it looks back.”
I took the thing and wrapped it in a dishrag and put it in my jacket pocket.
Buttercup smiled up at me. She’d shown no interest in or fear of the dagger. If she understood what had been said about it, she also showed no interest or fear in that.
We were seated in the kitchen. The oven had been moved back, which cut off the damp smell from the tunnels. Biscuits were cooking inside it, which made the scene almost homey, except for the knowledge that a siege and assault by sorcerers was due with the sunrise.
Gertriss had managed to trim Buttercup’s fingernails. The banshee even wore a ring now. It was fashioned from a twist of yarn and the jewel was a gumdrop, but Buttercup showed it to me with the gravity of an heiress. Shoes were still a problem, Gertriss reported. Oh, the banshee would parade around in them for a few minutes, giggling and clapping, but she quickly lost interest and stepped out of them as soon as she spotted something shiny.
Lady Werewilk had met us underground. I stalled until we were assembled in the kitchen while I decided what to tell and what to hide and what the Hell we were going to do to prepare for a war that had the likes of Encorla Hisvin questioning his own mortality.
In the end, I’d spilled most of it. I hadn’t used Encorla’s name, didn’t mention that he’d laid the Faery Ring or had a long-time hand in Werewilk’s history. I didn’t mention alarkins or artifacts, although the Lady guessed right away that something old and sorcerous was involved.
And I’d told her about Buttercup. And the dagger.
I hadn’t wanted to tell that. But the Lady was my client. I don’t lie to my clients. Especially when Evis would have revealed all of it anyway, in my presence or outside it.
“So the banshee may be the key to all this?”
The Lady is good at keeping her face blank. I resolved never to play cards with her.
“She may be. I’m not convinced of that. Others are.”
“And that dagger has the power to kill her.”
I just nodded.
The Lady took a sip of coffee. “I will have no murder in this house,” she said. “Certainly not of my guests. Most especially not of poor wild creatures who have seldom known kindness. You need not fear for her, Finder. Like you, I refuse to spill innocent blood in the interest of expediency.”
I felt a knot loosen in my gut.
“I’m very glad to hear it, Lady. But in the interest of safety, I’ll volunteer to take the banshee out of your House myself. I think we could slip away, if we leave now.”
“You would die. It is too late for flight.”
Victor had spoken. His voice was dry and flat. Sara, seated beside him, nodded beneath her black hood.
“You managed to sneak past them.”
“I am a vampire. Even so, we moved ahead of them, not through them. You would die. There is no doubt.”
Darla squeezed my hand, which was already numb from being held and squeezed and clung to.
“Fine. No early morning hikes in the dew, then. I guess we get ready to fight.”
“They are many. They have siege engines. And sorcery.”
“We have some small sorcery of our own.” Lady Werewilk grinned. Marlo made frantic shushing noises.
“The time for secrecy has long since passed. I cannot simply stand by and watch my House be assaulted without employing every means of defense available.”
“You know the law,” began Marlo.
“The law is subject to interpretation,” said Evis, smoothly. “In fact, if Lady Werewilk were to engage in some minor acts of the arcane while in the employ of Avalante, I believe the likelihood of any legal action in the matter is quite low.”
“Practically nonexistent,” I added. “Hell. She might even rate a medal.”
“Indeed.” Evis allowed himself a tight-lipped smile, aware that his audience was human. “You may proceed without fear of prosecution, Lady. I speak for Avalante.”
The Lady rose.
“Oh, Lady Werewilk. One more thing. I quit.”
She laughed. “Now, Finder?”
“You hired me to find out who was surveying your land. I’ve told you as much as I can about them. No need for you to keep me on the payroll.”
“Fair enough. Marlo. Pay the man. I do hope you’ll accept my invitation to remain here, as my guest, until this is over.”
I nodded. “Thank you, Lady.”
She pushed back her chair and sailed from the room, Marlo close on her heels.
Evis sniffed the air. “I believe the biscuits are about to burn.”
“What would you know ’bout biscuits,” muttered Mama Hog.
“Enough not to burn them.”
“Oh hush, both of you.” Darla let go of my hand and rushed to the stove. I opened and closed my fingers a few times to make sure they still worked.
“Throw a couple of those on a plate, will you, Darla, my dear? Then bring them upstairs. I get terribly grumpy if I have to go to war without a nap first.”
“You’re gonna sleep, boy? Now?”
‘For an hour or so, Mama. Unless you can think of something better to do.”
“We can be a sharpenin’ blades and piling furniture against the doors.”
“We could start boiling water to pour down the trap doors, in case they find the tunnels,” added Evis.
Mama cackled. “Good idea, boy. I likes that one.”
Evis smiled. “Then you’ll love what I have in mind to put in jars that can be tossed from upstairs to the lawn,” he said.
“Lamp oil?”
Evis nodded. “With soap mixed in, to make it stick.”
Mama slapped him on the back. “I likes the way you think, boy.”
I hustled Darla out of there, before they started hugging.
Later, Darla and I watched the sunrise.
As sunrises go, it lacked spectacle. The window was so thick we could barely see through it in the first place. And then there were the trees, which drank up the sun as it climbed.
But some light crept through nonetheless. First came the dawn, red and slow, and it gave way to day. There was no warmth in it. No bird song, either. Just a pale grey light that seemed reluctant and shone cold.
Darla was at my side, leaning against me. Her hair was mussed and her eyes were red, but she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
I told her so. She smiled and called me a liar.
And then the first siege engine broke from the trees, and men came shouting with it.
Horses galloped into the Lady’s charred and unkempt lawn. There were more shouts. I could make out movement, but not detail. There came crashings and the neighing of horses, and then the chop-chop-chopping of axes biting into trees.
Darla regarded it with a sleepy sort of detached curiosity.
“They’re clearing the trees so the catapults can fire.”
“You know the very words to melt a girl’s heart.”
“That’s me, all right. Charming to the last.”
“Is this the last, Markhat?”
I forced a smile. “Not a chance, Missy. All they’ve got are catapults. The Corpsemaster has worse than that in his pajama pockets, and you know it.”
“Maybe. But if it is, I love you, Markhat.”
Masonry shattered, down below. The horsemen were using ropes to topple the ward statues.
“This is the part where you tell me you love me too,” said Darla.
“You know I do.”
“I don’t know anything unless you tell me.”
“I bought you velvet gloves for Yule. If that isn’t love, I don‘t know what is.”
She turned to face me.
“I am not going to die without hearing the words, Markhat. Give me that.”
Hammers joined the axes as the catapult began to take shape. Footfalls sounded beyond my door, rushing from the stairs and down the hall towards us.
“I love you, Darla Tomas. Happy now? There is an invading army forming up on the lawn, you know. They have a catapult. Did I mention they have a catapult?”
She smiled. “So we’ve established that I love you, and you love me. Agreed?”
“No arguments here.” Knocks fell on my door. Mama bellowed my name.
Darla didn’t let go when I made to turn away.
“When men type people and women type people fall in love, they often start setting certain dates.”
Mama, bless her heart, gave the door a shove and barged on in, bellowing and stomping.
“Boy! Wake up, damned if they ain’t about to start flingin’ rocks-”
Darla skipped away from me, a hint of triumph on her face. Mama blushed and shut up.
“It’s all right, Mama. We were just about to get dressed.”
Mama gobbled something apologetic and backed away. I grabbed a shirt and hastily donned it, while Darla glided to the fancy bathroom and closed the door.
“You said something about rocks and the flinging thereof.”
“They’s pushin’ machines out of the woods. Three so far. Men an’ horses everywhere.”
I sat and pulled on boots.
“We knew this was coming, Mama. And you know who’s on our side.”
Mama snorted. “The one we ain’t naming ain’t on nobody’s side but his own.”
I found Toadsticker hiding under the couch and yanked him free. The Corpsemaster’s dainty dagger went in my right boot, where I planned for it to stay.
“What’s going on downstairs?”
“Them painters is paintin’. The rest of the lot is runnin’ around with swords they don’t know how to swing. The Lady has took to her wand-wavin’ room. Her man is stompin’ around givin’ orders and getting’ mad when nobody pays him no mind.”
I had a good idea who was foremost in paying Marlo no mind.
“Evis and crew?”
Mama cackled. “Boy, I got to say, that Evis is a likeable feller, if you can get past that face. He’s made up a batch of sticky lamp oil and if he’s as good at throwin’ as he thinks he is we might just set them cat-a-pults on fire before they get them built.”
“Victor and Sara?”
“Who?
“The other two halfdead.”
“Ain’t seen hide nor hair of them. Reckon they’re about, though, getting’ ready to spread some vampire nasty when the doors go down.”
Darla emerged from my bathroom. Her hair was combed, her clothes were fresh and the red was gone from her eyes.
“We’re engaged,” she said, without preamble.
Mama barked a laugh and slapped her knee. “And high time, I reckon.”
“Don’t look so terrified, darling. It happens all the time.”
“I don’t look terrified.”
“Last time I seen bug eyes like that, boy, they was in a toad a coach run over.” Mama grinned and bowed. When she straightened up, there was a dried owl in her hand. “Upon this joining, I confer my blessing.”
Something exploded out on the lawn. Tiny bits of sod pecked at the window.
“Downstairs, ladies. War starts early, in these parts.”
Darla took my arm. “Let’s get it done quickly, shall we, dear? We have rings to pick out.”
I’ve never hurried toward the sound of battle with such eagerness.
Downstairs was pandemonium.
Gardeners and stable boys and carpenters and cooks were charging from window to window and door to door, shouting and knocking holes in the plaster with their makeshift armor and tripping over each other everywhere the hall got narrow. Half a dozen dogs trotted happily behind them, not sure what game it was they were playing but determined to enjoy it anyway.
Marlo brought up the rear, bellowing and cursing and red-faced. He carried no weapon, but his hands were balled into white-knuckled fists, and I figured he was one shout away from grabbing the nearest of the staff and beating them until they listened.
I parked Darla at the foot of the stairs and charged into the fray, grabbing Marlo by his elbow.
“Let me show you an old trick my sergeant showed me.”
The mob reversed and was upon me, responding to a shout that troops were at the door. They weren’t, but I planted myself in the way, smiled a big wide smile, and laid out the first two males who got within arm’s reach of me.
That halted the charge. And like the Sarge used to say, a bloody nose never killed anyone.
“Shut up. All of you. Shut up and be still and listen, or you’ll get the same, and worse.”
One of the men I’d disciplined muttered something uncomplimentary. Marlo responded with a boot to his gut.
“You can’t see a damned thing out of any of these windows. And since they don’t open, they might as well not be there. So I want you, you, and you-” I pointed three worthies out at random, “-to find some tools and go to the top floor and take out a window on each wall. Got that? Just smash the damned things until they break. We can’t defend the House blind like this.”
“But the Lady-”
“I speak for the Lady,” snarled Marlo. “And this man speaks for me. He wasn’t asking, either. Get hammers, get upstairs, get moving.”
The trio conferred briefly about workrooms and hammers and then off they went.
Marlo’s face was the color of fresh cut beef.
“What else?”
“The rest of you barricade the doors. Start with the main doors, but don’t forget the side doors. Mr. Marlo, is there any furniture you want spared?”
“Hell no. Break it all to splinters if you have to. Just keep the doors from coming down.”
“You heard the man.”
A surly-eyed gardener in the rear of the pack perked up.
“What if they set the place afire? What do we do about that?”
“Slate doesn’t burn, Burns, and if you keep up with that sort of talk I’ll haul your whining ass up to the roof and throw you down myself.”
The man blanched. Marlo glared.
The floor shook as a mighty ironwood tree went down. The uppermost branches of it struck the House as it fell. There was a splintering and a rending, but the walls took the blow easily.
“The doors,” I said. “Heavy big stuff first. Nail it in place if you can. Smaller junk behind it. Go.”
They scattered, leaving Marlo and I alone.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Don’t mention it. Easier for me to do. They don’t know me, and I don’t have to live with them later.”
“If there is a later.”
“Been through worse. Still here to complain about it.”
Marlo snorted. Another tree fell out on the lawn. They’d soon have a clear field of fire, from anywhere they chose.
“The Lady?”
“Down in her room. Brewing up something, don’t know what, ain’t gonna ask.”
“Let’s hope it’s good. Seen Evis?”
“In the gallery. Dark in there.”
Buttercup came flying down the stairs. I say flying. It might have been a leap, might have been some unusual display of agility that only a creature as small as the banshee could execute. I never saw her do it again. But it looked as if she simply picked up her feet and came gliding down that stair.
Flying or not, Darla managed to grab her before she could pass. The tiny creature struggled for a moment, then buried her face in Darla’s hair and begin to whimper.
Darla looked at me and was about to say something, but then her eyes went wide and she whirled and put her back to me and tried to run.
She slipped on a spot of beer, went down on one knee.
I had Toadsticker out and level with my waist before I got turned around. Marlo was hurled into the far wall with a thud and a curse. Something black and shapeless, like a shadow given substance, fluttered by me, making a sound somewhere between wings flapping and the pages of a book being fanned. I made a slice at it with Toadsticker, met some resistance, heard a high keening screech before I felt the blade yank free.
I followed with a leap, shoved Toadsticker in the biggest part of the boiling black mass. It shrieked again. Darla screamed and rolled, and the wad of shadows and I fell and rolled and struggled.
It was cold. I never saw a face or a claw or a body of any kind. Something pushed at me and tore at my clothes, though, and it tried desperately to wrench Toadsticker free. I got on top of it. I managed to get my knees around it and then Mama appeared with a bucket full of fire. She dumped it on the shadow thing with a scream and a kick.
Whatever it was, it would have made damned fine kindling. It shrieked and spasmed and then it burst into flames that quickly engulfed it.
If Marlo hadn’t yanked me to my feet, I’d have been burned myself.
I kept it pinned as long as I could, only withdrawing Toadsticker when the thing stopped struggling.
It didn’t burn long, after that. And it left nothing but a handful of ash behind.
“What the Hell was that?”
I sat on my ass and puffed. Darla and Buttercup joined me.
“It was after the banshee,” said Mama, stirring the remains with a boot. She spat in the ashes. “Bet it meant to pick her up and fly her out, owl-like.”
“The chimneys,” I puffed more air. “Light a fire. In all of them. Must have come down a chimney.”
Marlo barked orders. He had the presence of mind to order torches brought to us all. This time, his orders were heeded.
“Thanks, Mama. How’d you know it would burn?”
“I didn’t,” she replied. “It was that or a chamber-pot. Ain’t you glad I chose like I did?”
Evis came gliding up. He regarded the ashes and frowned.
“Sorcery.”
“Looks like.” I stood. “Make a circle. Darla, you and Buttercup in the middle. Might be more of those about, until we get some fires burning.”
We arranged ourselves. I felt Buttercup’s tiny hand on my back as she grabbed a handful of shirt and held on.
Upstairs came the sound of windows breaking. I cringed. “Better get a torch behind all those too,” I said. “If they can fly high enough to come down chimneys they can fly through windows.”
Marlo repeated what I’d just said. There were nods and then running feet.
Buttercup still whimpered. I wondered what she could see that we couldn’t, whether she knew what was being arrayed against us outside. If Hisvin had been telling the truth, Buttercup was a creation of something so ancient it predated all of Kingdom history-what, I wondered, would be sufficient to frighten a creature which had seen all the horrors it must surely have witnessed?
Mama broke the silence by beginning to sing.
It was a lullaby. I knew the tune, but not the words. My own mother had hummed it, over and over, as she mended the whole neighborhood’s shirts with the same century-old needle and threads she salvaged from the trash-heap of a grave clothes maker.
I guessed the song itself was as old as the language.
“Don’t you fret child
Don’t you cry,
Mama’s gonna make the black-birds fly.
And when those black-birds fly away,
Mama’s gonna make you a bed to lay…”
Buttercup stopped whimpering. Mama kept humming, probably because she either didn’t know any more of the song or she hadn’t come up with a rhyme yet.
We heard shouts, hammers beginning to fall inside, the scraping and shoving of heavy chests and tables and cases. Glass shattered, up above.
And then behind me, a tiny voice that was not Darla began to sing as Mama hummed.
The words weren’t clear. After an instant I realized they weren’t even Kingdom. But the voice, tiny and high as a bird’s-
“Darla? Is it?”
“She’s singing, Markhat. It’s her.”
Buttercup sang, her words still strange, but obviously sang in accompaniment to Mama’s hummed tune.
“Buttercup? Do you understand me?”
No response, except more song.
“She was raised, I knew it,” said Darla. “You didn’t always live in the trees, did you, honey?”
Buttercup stopped singing, but if she meant to reply she didn’t get the chance. Shouts sounded above, and blows, and then a second ball of black came soaring down the stairs, headed right for Buttercup.
This time it was Evis who attacked. He simply leaped up, grabbed the black mass, and wrestled it to the floor. It thrashed and grappled, but Evis kept it down, pinning it with hands and knees.
Gertriss came charging down the stair, a cut on her temple and bloody murder in her eyes. The sword in her hand gleamed.
“Flew right through the window,” she said, taking the last few treads with a jump. “I’m sure I hit it, but it kept flying.”
I leaned over it. Evis grinned, having no trouble keeping the flapping thing pinned to the floor.
In the light, it looked like black paper, wadded and glued and stuck together at random. There was no face, no body, no wings as such.
I grabbed a corner of the thing.
It tore like paper.
Hell, it was paper. Black paper, that somehow moved in my hand, trying to fold its way out of my grasp.
I poked and prodded while it flapped. There was a cavity in the middle of the thing. A cavity just big enough to hold most of Buttercup.
A bevy of gardeners came charging up, bearing the torches Marlo had ordered. I took one and thrust it down into the thing after pinning it with Toadsticker and my boot.
It went up as quickly as the first one.
Everyone grabbed a torch. Gertriss came around to stand on my right, which put her well away from Mama. I surmised their relations were still a bit strained.
We put another of the paper things to the torch before the fires in the chimneys and the torches at the windows rendered the House impassable to them.
Mama hummed some more, but Buttercup didn’t sing. She just clung to either Darla or Gertriss and when she did peek out from behind them her eyes were wide and fearful.
Another tree fell outside. I smelled the first faint stench of smoke, and I wondered if our besiegers would have the sense to pile the cut timber against the house and set it afire. The House would resist burning, to a point, but if the walls themselves got hot enough we’d find ourselves in a well-furnished oven.
“Gertriss. Darla. Keep torches handy. Stay with Buttercup.”
Evis whispered something. Shadows moved at the end of the hall, as Victor and Sara flitted away on some errand of their own. I lifted an eyebrow at Evis, but he just grinned and winked at me over his dark spectacles and I let it go.
“Reckon we might ought to move the banshee to a room,” said Marlo. “One on the second floor with no windows, one door, stone floor, timber ceiling. Nothing getting in there unless we let it.”
“They’ve got wand-wavers. We keep her moving. Make it harder for them to aim another spell at her.” Marlo didn’t like my plan, but he had the sense not to argue.
“Mama, keep an eye on things. Evis, you’re an art enthusiast, are you not?”
The vampire shrugged. “The House maintains a modest collection,” he replied. “Seems an odd time to discuss it.”
“Walk with me. I have some interesting works to show you.”
I turned before anyone could argue and headed for the gallery. Evis fell into step beside me while Mama began bellowing orders designed to move Buttercup up the stairs.
“What have you got on your mind, Markhat?”
We reached the door to the gallery and I pushed it open and motioned Evis inside.
“Hell if I know,” I whispered. “But have a look. Tell me what you think.”
The gallery was just as I’d left it. The silent ranks of artists worked feverishly, wordlessly, oblivious to anything and everything save their paints and their canvases.
The only sounds were those of brushes.
Evis pulled down his spectacles. All but two of the lamps had gone out. The room was dark enough for vampire comfort, and yet the painters painted on.
“Oh my.” Evis stepped cautiously into the room. He moved to stand fang-to-face beside a skinny young woman with big mouse eyes.
She gave no sign of knowing a halfdead was beside her.
Evis reached up, stroked her pale neck. Nothing, save the darting of her brush.
He put his hand before her eyes.
She made no reaction at all. Her brush stabbed and scraped, as purposefully as before.
“Sorcery.”
“Looks like. But it isn’t the Lady. And I don’t think it’s our friends on the lawn.”
Evis frowned. “The Corpsemaster?”
“Yes. No. Maybe. But if it was his, why not tell us? And what on Earth is he hoping to accomplish?”
Evis frowned, and his gaze moved from the painter to the painting.
“I can’t quite make out the subject here. Interesting.”
I squinted, but in the dark all I saw were blotches. “Mind if I light a few lamps? I don’t see in the dark as well as some persons.”
“I’ll help.”
It took us a few moments. The lamps had run out of oil, and a couple needed new wicks. I realized some of these kids had been at it for hours on end.
But what they’d been at wasn’t obvious, even with fresh lamps lit.
I brought my lamp close to the nearest canvas. On it was a splash of grey, a few apparently random black lines, and a hint of reddish glow at one corner. I could have done much the same just by smearing one of the paint-boards across the canvas with my eyes closed.
“This is not what they were doing yesterday.”
Evis regarded another canvas. His was similar to mine. If either painting depicted anything at all, neither of us could discern it. Yet the painters continued their work with precision and care.
“Perhaps the magic that led them to create masterpieces has failed, or been corrupted by the intrusion of magics from elsewhere.”
I snatched a brush from the hand of the nearest artist. Without pausing, they took up a fresh one and resumed their work. I took that brush too, and they dipped their finger in the paint and carried on, never taking their eyes from the canvas.
“It’s gotten stronger.” Realization hit. “They couldn’t stop now if they wanted to.”
“They’ll start dropping from exhaustion soon,” said Evis. He laid a hand on the neck of the nearest, and I realized he was feeling for a pulse.
“This one isn’t far from it.”
I cussed.
“They’re dead if the doors are breached. We don’t have enough hands to pick them up and carry them to the tunnels.”
“We need to get the Lady in here. See if she can wake them up. Unless she’s the one who did this in the first place.”
“I don’t think she has this kind of range.”
“The Lady looks hot in a tight black dress. So you’re biased. Look. You heard the Corpsemaster. Whatever is down there, — ” he tapped his foot for emphasis, “-isn’t thrilled about it. Maybe the Lady got to dabbling, maybe she made contact, maybe all this fine art pouring from nowhere is something’s way of pushing the door open, bit by bit. Think about it. The Lady starts getting rich, she lets more and more mojo leak out, then the alarkin gets free.”
“With the Corpsemaster watching over her shoulder?”
“Nobody’s perfect. Even Hisvin blinks. It’s just a theory.” Evis glanced toward the hall. I didn’t hear anything, but then I’m not a vampire.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said. “But I don’t think I’ll mention it to Hisvin.”
Evis smiled. The lamplight glinted on the tips of his teeth.
“Yes, you probably don’t want to go upsetting the Corpsemaster any more than necessary. You may have noticed that she has a nasty temper.”
Icicles scampered down my spine.
“She?”
“That’s the conclusion around Avalante. We don’t spread it around. But it’s been known to us for years. You do attract the most fascinating women, Markhat.”
I made frantic gobbling noises of denial. Evis laughed, clearly enjoying himself.
“Come now. She pops up here the instant your hide is in peril, she saves you from the sorcerers, she even gives you a shiny dagger? What more do you need? Long walks in the Park? Flowers and poetry?”
I turned and made for the door. Evis set his lamp down and followed, still chuckling.